Jake Abbot
The bus pulled up to the plane, waiting on the tarmac for the team. My father and William were standing close, having a heated conversation. My father stood there while his friend paced, throwing his hands up about something.
“Oh, this can’t be good,” Wyatt grumbled beside me.
Wyatt’s right-winger stood beside our seats, “Haven’t checked social this morning?”
Wyatt looked at him, “No, but that doesn’t sound good.”
“Your sister has a thing for lawyers,” he chuckled, “and PA.” My blood ran cold at his comment. She won’t. Not my goddamn brother.
Pulling out my phone, I ignored my teammates.
The level of fury was unlike anything I felt before. No doubt I would have killed my brother if he was standing in front of me.
Grabbing my bag, I stormed off the bus to make a phone cal
